


We keep our love in a photograph

by timethetalewastold (Bilo79)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BUT HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE, Christmas Fluff, Harry's POV, Louis's Birthday, M/M, Photographer Harry AU, Prompt Fill, mention of infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8896774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bilo79/pseuds/timethetalewastold
Summary: Harry finds a gift under the Christmas tree - an album of photographs taken over the years he and Louis have been together. THIS IS AN AU!!I know it's kind of weird, because I've used pics of our boys in our universe (well, pics or manips) but it's important you understand that's it's an au and we have to use our imaginations! So please don't message me and tell me a photo I've used here wasn't taken in the year I've said or the place I've said - I know :-) Let's just pretend :-) For the prompt: 'Harry finds a box of magic photographs under his Christmas tree and watch himself fall in love with Louis in every single one of them and think that maybe it's time to go wake up the love of his life who is probably still really grumpy about being a year older.'This was a pinch hit, so I didn't have a lot of time to do it. And because I couldn't figure out a way to include the magic element, these are just ordinary photos,but I hope that's ok!





	

Every Christmas Eve since they got together, Harry had woken up early; set his alarm so that he could make breakfast for Louis. _Birthday_ breakfast, to show Louis he was loved, even before he woke up. It had become a tradition and even though Louis had assured him tiredly last night that he didn’t have to, it was fine, Harry wanted to. It meant that in the worst or the best of times, some things never changed – and Harry’s love for Louis was one of those things.

Harry’s alarm went off, vibrating insistently on the bedside drawers, until Harry stretched over sleepily to snooze it. Louis snuffled a little in his sleep, opened his mouth and sighed, but didn’t wake. Harry, pleased he was sleeping, pushed the stray strands of hair out of Louis’ face and smoothed his thumb against Louis’ temple, fondly. His face was soft with sleep and Harry felt he could watch him forever, like this, in the cool morning light, just the two of them.

Before his alarm had time to sound again, Harry swung his long legs out of bed, shoved his phone into the pocket of his joggers and sneaked quietly out of the room. He padded downstairs into the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast for Louis – full English, as a treat, although Harry wouldn’t touch any of it, preferring muesli, despite Louis’ inevitable teasing.

As he pottered contentedly around the kitchen, he glanced into the living room and was perplexed to see an unfamiliar parcel under the tree. As usual, Louis had chosen the tree, strapped it to the roof of his car and lugged it back to the house from the local tree nursery. Then, with the help of his sisters, he’d strung their familiar decorations across its branches and arranged Harry’s presents underneath it. He knew it was safe to do that, since Harry wouldn’t rattle and squeeze the parcels to try and guess their contents. After their first Christmas together, Harry learnt that Louis _would_ rattle and squeeze the presents, and so he always hid them away.

But there, nestled under the tree, was a gift that Harry knew had not been there the night before. It was wrapped differently to the other presents, in gold paper with a gold bow on top, and Harry was intrigued. With a fleeting look at the grill to make sure Louis’ breakfast wasn’t burning; he tiptoed into the living room and knelt beside the tree to look at the new gift. Turning the tag over, he saw written in Louis’ familiar handwriting:

 

_To Harry_

_Happy My Birthday!_

_I got you a small gift to say thank you_

_for spending another year with me._

_Always in my heart,_

_Louis x_

Harry carried the box into the kitchen so that he could keep an eye on the food, then unravelled the ribbon and opened the box Louis had left him. Inside he found a photograph album and his lips quirked in delight.

Opening the first page, he found a picture of him and Louis in the first year they were together:

 

Next to it, Louis had written simply:  _2010_.

Harry remembered that picture being taken, at a friend’s house, the summer they met. Harry had been just sixteen and slightly in awe at first, of the older, funnier, more outrageous boy that his friend, Niall introduced him to. Louis was eighteen – braver than Harry, louder; but for some reason that Harry had not been able to fathom, this whirlwind of a boy actually seemed to like Harry. He flirted with him, slung his arm around Harry’s shoulders, even when they were around the others; whispered jokes in Harry’s ear, that their friends couldn’t hear; pulled the younger boy into his lap and then carried on speaking to Zayn or to Liam as if it wasn’t anything unusual.

Their friends teased them endlessly about it, of course, but Louis didn’t appear to care and in the end, Harry didn’t either. He was too preoccupied with the way his stomach swopped with desire when Louis winked at him, or the way his heart stuttered in his chest when Louis casually reached out to touch Harry’s curls.

One night, as they sat propped against each other on Niall’s floor, long after the others had gone to sleep, Harry whispered, “I think I like you a bit more than I should, Lou” and Louis had kissed him – softly, gently, in case Harry got scared. Harry had clambered into Louis’ lap and kissed him back.

That photo was taken the next day, in Niall’s kitchen, when over breakfast Louis announced loudly: “So listen lads, I think it’s only fair that you know that Harry and I snogged last night!” and the others had cheered and guffawed and then Louis kissed Harry again, on the cheek, making Harry laugh in delight.

Harry touched the picture gently and turned to the next page.

Another photograph and next to it, in Louis’ familiar scrawl:  _2011_

This one had been taken at one of the music festivals they’d all gone to that year: Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn, all piled into Louis’ campervan. They’d travelled up and down the country that summer in the little blue van before it finally packed up on the way back from the Isle of Wight. Harry couldn’t remember which festival this one had been taken at – could have been Leeds, or Glastonbury or even the ill-fated Isle of Wight trip. That summer had been a blur of bands and gigs and conversations that went on into the early hours.

There’d been other nights too, in a tent or in the van with Lou when the others were partying somewhere else. Nights pressed against Louis, learning his body, gasping against his skin, learning how to make Louis gasp too. Nights spent sharing secrets, and falling, falling in a way neither knew was possible. Waking up in the morning and gazing at each other with bleary, cautious eyes and each being glad, so glad that the other was still there, not chased off by the intensity of the night before.

Harry smiled as he remembered those days – how young they had been, how much they still had to learn. How much lay before them. He turned the page.

 

There was Louis’ writing again: _2012_

 

They’d been in Australia that year, celebrating the end of Harry’s A-Levels. Harry had relatives over there – _“rellies,_ ” Louis called them in his best Australian accent - so all he and Louis had to do was scrape together the airfare. They’d saved up all their money from their part-time jobs all through winter and spring in order to afford the flights. Harry’s aunty had taken this picture, Harry was sure, as the warm Sydney wind whipped around them and they laughed at Harry’s cousins’ attempts to dive into the water.

It had been their last holiday together before Harry went off to Uni and neither of them knew how they were going to cope with that. They were used to seeing each other all the time; they didn’t know if they could manage a long distance relationship.

Looking at it now, Harry thought the picture was the last time they were free, with no responsibilities. His fingertips outlined wistfully the laugh which lit up Louis’ face and wished more than anything he could see Louis laugh like that every day again.

He turned to the next page.

 

_2013_

 

Harry knew at once where this picture had been taken – at their friend, James’ wedding. How smart they all looked, in their best suits – and how much alcohol had they piled onto their table?! Harry grinned at the memory.

But there, on Louis’ face, was something else, a quiet reticence that hadn’t been in the other photographs. Harry being at uni was harder than either of them had anticipated. There were long long stretches where they didn’t see each other, stretches even where they didn’t speak. There were new temptations.

Louis was doing well in his job; he was meeting new people, people with experiences that a student like Harry couldn’t even imagine. Harry met new people too – the kind he and Louis had never met before. Finding common ground between the two of them became more difficult.

There were nights Harry wasn’t proud of, when temptation and alcohol and frustration with the situation led Harry to someone else’s bed, or sofa or spare room. Louis never asked and Harry never asked him either, but he wasn’t naive enough to think he was the only one to stray.

But there they were, at James’ wedding, putting a brave face on things, still trying. They stayed at a hotel that night and as Harry fell with sheer relief between Louis thighs, it felt like old times, as if nothing between them had changed and it seemed they both dared hope again, for a short time.

Louis’ writing:  _2014_

Harry sighed. This picture was taken on a day Harry would never ever forget. Louis had looked so smart and sensible and Harry had rolled up looking rakish and exotic, but really the day had been about Jay. She’d been so happy, and they’d been so happy for her and any differences between them were forgotten for the time being anyway, for her sake. She’d introduced Harry to the few members of her family he hadn’t met and Harry’s memory of that day was not of himself or of Louis, but of her. She’d glowed and shared her love with everyone, as she always did. She was radiant that day, beaming, and Harry had never been so proud of her.

That night, he and Louis had again stayed at a hotel and he reflected that they’d stayed in more hotels in the previous year than either of them had in their whole lives, as more of their friends got married and settled down. “You ever want to get married?” Louis had asked as he switched off the light and pressed up against Harry under the covers.

“Course, one day” Harry had murmured, nuzzling into the warmth and familiarity of Louis’ skin. The affection he felt for him in that moment was so raw, so sharp, that tears prickled against his eyes in the dark. Louis was so intrinsically a part of his life, that even his family felt like his own and Harry realised he couldn’t conceive of a time when he and Louis wouldn’t be together.

_2015_

Harry smiled at that picture. It had been taken at a local art gallery, before the opening of Zayn’s new exhibition. Harry had recently graduated and moved back home, with his mum. The morning the photo was taken, Harry and Louis had been helping Zayn carry a few last minute pieces into the gallery and Zayn had snapped a picture of them by the gallery wall, looking silly and pleased with themselves.

Later that night, as Harry stretched his legs across Louis’ lap whilst they watched tv, Louis said:

“So, listen, Curly, now that you’re back in town, are you going to move in with me or what?”

And Harry had launched himself into Louis’ arms with excitement and kitten kisses and _yesyesyeses_ until Louis laughed out loud and kissed him back.

It felt natural, a week or so later, to pitch up at Louis’ place with his possessions in boxes, and merge his stuff with Louis’, just as their lives were essentially merging too. Harry had lined up a job with a photographic agency in town; doing shoots all around the region, and Louis couldn’t have been more proud of him – never missing an opportunity to say: “My boyfriend, who’s a photographer...” Harry would roll his eyes when he overheard him, then turn away and tousle his hair in front of his face so that no-one saw his own pleased expression.

There was one more page left to turn.

_2016_

 

This was the first year they had faced together as completely equal partners, Harry felt – adults, each with their own jobs and responsibilities. They both had bills to pay and deadlines to meet, and it all felt a little real and grown up to Harry at times, but he couldn’t imagine doing any of it without Louis by his side.

There were no holidays in Australia this year – no holidays anywhere, actually - they had spent their two weeks’ annual leave in the summer stripping the living room and redecorating it. Then they’d invited the boys round for a party and after everyone had had just a couple too many, Liam got over-emotional about the gang growing up and Niall vomited in the corner. _“This is why we got a fucking wooden floor”_ Harry had muttered, wiping the sick up with an armful of kitchen paper.

There were no trips to music festivals this year, and not as many gigs or nights out with friends as either of them would have liked. They still saw the other boys, every couple of weeks or so, and they still hung out with their families regularly. In fact, one of Louis’ sisters had probably taken this picture, Harry reasoned, since he’d never seen it before.  

It was taken at Jay’s house, he could tell that. He couldn’t recall what he might have been whispering to Louis, but he liked the intimacy of the shot, and how hot Louis looked in it.

 

He smirked, turning away from the photographs for a moment to see to Louis’ breakfast again.

He didn’t know what had prompted Louis to make the “Happy My Birthday” gift for Harry, but he pondered it as he served Louis’ birthday breakfast up on to a plate and set it out on a tray for him with a hot cup of tea, made nice and strong, just how Louis liked it.

Photography was Harry’s life after all – his career and his passion, because he understood how a simple snap could capture a moment in time that would never be repeated. It could capture the essence of a person, or of a relationship, and reveal the excitement or love or uncertainty concealed behind even the smallest of gestures or glances.

He thought back on the pictures of them that Louis had chosen, and all the hopes and dreams hidden in those images. _“Thank you for spending another year with me,”_ Louis had written. Gripping the tray of food in both hands, Harry took the stairs two at a time, back up to Louis, knowing that he wouldn’t have wanted to spend that time with anyone else. He was certain, with all his heart, that this was still the beginning of their story. There would be many more years, and many hundreds more photographs to come. And Harry couldn’t wait.


End file.
